I understand the mosquitoes

I spent the weekend at the property that permits me to call myself the Gentleman Farmer without complete reality dis-linkage. Mowing and weed hacking (of course) and some vegetable gardening, as well as some work on the apple trees. This will be the first year we'll have any apples, but one tree simply refuses to grow properly. My patience worn out, I've put the darned thing into traction, which will either kill it or make it strong.

But back to those mosquitoes. I understand them: They eat blood. It's what they do. I've got blood, so they land on me and try to drink some. It makes perfect sense. I don't have to like it, but I understand them.

Hornets, yellowjackets and the like are the same. I'm somewhere that upsets them, they get mad, they do their hornet thing. Perfectly sensible. Their action will ultimately lead to a massive and devastating chemical counter-strike, but I understand them.

It's the flies that bug me. What the heck is it that they want from me? Why on God's Earth do they keep buzzing around, landing on my (largely hairless) head, and refusing to go away? Do they want to eat me? Do they drink my sweat? What the heck do they WANT?!